There is a line in a very important book in my life that I return to often: “Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices.”
Opinion
It wasn’t written about politics. It was written about something far more personal. But watching the rise of the Wyoming Freedom Caucus over the last several years — and then watching voters deliver a very different message in last week’s primary — I couldn’t help but think about those words.
There are lessons here, and they aren’t only for the Freedom Caucus. They’re lessons for all of us who have the privilege of serving the public.
The first is that anger is powerful, but it is not the same thing as leadership.
Anger can win an election. Frustration can build a movement. A clever social media post can generate thousands of reactions. Politics makes it remarkably easy to convince people that every complicated problem has a simple solution being prevented by someone with bad intentions.
That kind of politics can be intoxicating. But governing is different.
Eventually, you have to produce something.
You have to pass a budget, maintain roads, keep law enforcement staffed and work with people you don’t particularly like. You have to understand that while the person sitting across the table may disagree with you, that doesn’t mean they’re corrupt, stupid or evil.
Most importantly, you have to make decisions where there isn’t a perfect answer. That is where frothy emotional appeal runs into reality.
The Freedom Caucus’ rise was not an accident, and dismissing it as one would be a mistake. Its members tapped into something real. Many Wyoming voters felt ignored. They were frustrated with government spending, skeptical of institutions and tired of politicians who seemed more interested in managing government than challenging it.
Those voters deserved to be heard. And in 2024, they were.
The Freedom Caucus took control of the Wyoming House of Representatives and received an opportunity few political movements ever receive: the chance to turn rhetoric into effective governance.
Then came the harder part.
This week’s election suggests that a meaningful number of Wyoming Republicans decided that what followed the caucus’s takeover wasn’t what they had signed up for.
That brings me to the second lesson: A mandate is borrowed, not owned.
Winning an election doesn’t mean voters have endorsed everything you will ever do afterward. It means they have entrusted you with an opportunity.
Politicians of every stripe eventually make the mistake of confusing the two. A big victory becomes proof that “the people are with us.” Criticism becomes evidence that opponents simply haven’t accepted the election. Compromise becomes betrayal. Before long, elected officials begin speaking for voters more often than they listen to them.
But voters are remarkably good at reminding us who works for whom.
Last Tuesday was one of those reminders.
The third lesson may be the most important: Being willing to fight is valuable; knowing when not to fight is leadership.
There are things worth fighting for. I’ve learned during my years in public service that some decisions require you to plant your feet and accept the consequences. Leadership cannot simply mean finding the loudest group in the room and doing whatever keeps them happy. But if everything is a battle, eventually nothing is.
Government requires relationships and trust. It requires sometimes accepting half a loaf so you can come back tomorrow and keep working. It requires understanding that today’s opponent on one issue may be tomorrow’s indispensable partner on another.
Compromise isn’t always surrender. Sometimes it is how representative government among people with different interests actually functions.
And there is another lesson for those who opposed the Freedom Caucus: Don’t become what you criticized.
Political pendulums swing. It would be easy for traditional Republicans to look at Tuesday’s results, declare the Freedom Caucus experiment dead and return to business as usual. That would be every bit as foolish as believing the 2024 election represented a permanent revolution.
The concerns that fueled the Freedom Caucus’ rise didn’t disappear Tuesday night. People still expect fiscal discipline. They still want government held accountable. They still distrust institutions that appear insulated from ordinary citizens. They still expect Republicans in one of the most conservative states in America to govern conservatively.
Those messages should not be discarded simply because some of the messengers were defeated.
The challenge now is to separate legitimate concerns from political theater — and turn them into durable policy.
Which brings me back to that line: “Frothy emotional appeal seldom suffices.”
Emotion can start something. It can fill a room, fuel a campaign, dominate Facebook and turn frustration into an electoral wave.
But sustained, meaningful change requires something more.
It requires depth. It requires weight. It requires humility.
It requires doing the homework when nobody is watching, building coalitions with people who don’t agree with you on everything, admitting when you’re wrong and occasionally making a decision that earns fewer likes but leaves your community better than you found it.
Perhaps most importantly, it requires remembering that no election result — good or bad — is the final word.
I’ve won elections. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve taken criticism. I’ve changed my mind. And after years in public service, I am increasingly convinced that leadership has much less to do with winning every argument than I once thought.
It is about accomplishing something that lasts.
Wyoming’s Freedom Caucus taught our state some lessons during its remarkable rise. Its setbacks this week should teach us some lessons too.
Not about which faction won or lost, but about the difference between a movement and governing. Between attention and accomplishment. Between outrage and leadership. Because froth rises quickly.
But only things with depth and weight endure.
